


Verdigris

by Shizuka131



Series: Amalgamation [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Assassins, Secret Organization, Spies, The White Council, code names, thieves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 07:30:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9481145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shizuka131/pseuds/Shizuka131
Summary: There exists an organization in Middle Earth full of spies, thieves, and assassins whose sole loyalty is to defeating the shadow of darkness still present even ages after the defeat of Sauron. Some members are born and raised in the cause and others are acquired as their skills prove useful and their motives true. Who better to create and manage this Amalgamation of races than the White Council themselves?





	

**2769 Third Age**

She inhaled and was engulfed in flame.

Smoke burrowed its way into her lungs despite her lack of presence. She choked upon the fear suffusing the city; lived and died with it’s people as destruction rained down upon it. She rallied behind a young, bedraggled prince crying out to her brethren for salvation and wept deeply for him when hope for his people was denied. She watched along with him in horror as his grandfather’s disembodied head was held aloft; felt his heartbreak as a pale orc’s animalistic roar carried above even the clash of steel and the brutality of war. She was silent in his false victory and aged a thousand, thousand years as she journeyed with him across the vast stretches of Middle Earth.

She watched for so long that she breathed and lived only through him, all memories of her own subsumed by his tragedies and victories. She labored in the forges of men, rejoiced in births of their nephews, and wished for success even as they disembarked on a fool’s journey to ask for the help of their kin in reclaiming their homeland. She gasped awake and returned to herself only as she watched the green door she had knocked upon, marked as it was by Tharkun, swing open into a home full of possibility.

She exhaled and was enveloped by starlight.  


* * *

 

 

She could not place what she was feeling until it was settled by the arrival of Mithrandir in the courtyard. His constancy calmed her restlessness in a way none of her kin had been able to, allowing her to draw her first deep breath since her vision that was not tainted by ash and blood.

“My Lady,” he spoke softly, voice carrying easily across the stone table. “It has been far too long since last we have met.” He turned to acknowledge the other man already seated. “Saruman, my old friend! I wish I could claim the same for you.” A look full of weary happiness slid onto his face.

The White Wizard sighed deeply. “The sentiment is mutual, Gandalf, I assure you. It seems I find myself in your company solving your problems more often than I spend in my own nowadays.”

Lord Elrond spoke up gently from the steps behind Gandalf. “Come now, let us focus on why we have been gathered here today so that we may all continue on with our responsibilities.” He leveled a stern look at the two wizards. “Surely you must both know that the Lady Galadriel would not call us together on a mere whim.” Galadriel smiled softly at him, thankful for his calm presence in a sea of gently rising animosity. They had learned quickly out of necessity that wizards never could handle prolonged exposure to one another without conflict. This was especially true of the two who were currently present: each meeting only increasing their contention.

“Indeed, Lord Elrond. I have received a most troubling vision.” The attention of the room was immediately focused on her, previously simmering animosity falling to the wayside. She glided softly towards the center of the room. “It seems that the fall of Erebor is on the horizon.” Surprise and confusion marred the faces of her friends in equal measure and silence reigned as they gathered their thoughts. It was Saruman who recovered his speech first.

“You find this troubling?” He scoffed, surprised but ultimately unmoved. “Truly, what meaning does this have for us? My own dealings with the Dwarves of the Mountain have long since ceased and I had believed the same was true of both the elves of Lorien and Imladris.” He looked to the other men present for support.

It was Elrond who provided it, speaking evenly in the way the Eldar Lord had long since mastered. “You are correct, my friend; it is only Thranduil who continues a correspondence with Erebor, albeit grudgingly, and only in light of his proximity to it.”

“Then why is that you have summoned us?” he asked bemusedly. His eyes narrowed shrewdly as he spoke, “Will its fall have some unforeseen effect on us? Are we in danger?”

Galadriel focused solely on the White as she spoke. “I have asked you here, Saruman, because I wish to do something about it.” She paused and took a sip of the miruvor she carried. “After all, we should all be concerned with where dragons are involved.”

A sharp gasp sounded from Gandalf, who up until now had been content to simply watch the verbal sparring. Elrond remained unfazed, which was not surprising given his gift of Sight. It was Saruman’s response that proved most interesting. He was startled momentarily before turning contemplative. It was but a breath before he returned to looking properly astonished. A low hum from her left meant that she had not been the only one to notice his drastic mood swing.

“Dragons?” Saruman cried out, looking ready to leap out of his seat. “There have been no dragons south of the Grey Mountains since the First Age! And of those that still exist, none can compare to that of Ancalagon the Black and his ilk.”

“I speak only of that which I have seen.” She countered fiercely. “Down from the north a fire drake will fly and bring with it the flames of which we have not seen for over an Age! It is called to the mountain even now by the presence of the great hoard beneath Erebor, with none so strong a siren call as that of the Heart of the Mountain: the Arkenstone.” Here, all members of the Council appeared appropriately troubled. Gandalf lit up his pipe to help calm himself.

“And seen have you where next the Dragon will go?” Saruman questioned. “Straight to the forests of the Greenwood and towards the Misty Mountains? Or Southeast, towards the lands of Men?”

“The Elves and Men may rest peacefully knowing that the Dragon will not fly far from the protection of Erebor. It will rest there for many years until it reawoken.” Only Saruman relaxed, reclining back to sprawl carelessly in his chair. When he spoke again it was with a voice laced in false concern.

“Then I must ask again: what would you ask of us? We shall not march upon the mountain to slay a dragon that is content to remain at bay and there is little that can be done to protect the dwarves that live there. They have been warned before of the danger that their greed cultivates and will not stand to listen otherwise. We cannot help them!” He punctuated his statement with a sweep of his hand, sending the smoke rings Gandalf had directed towards him skyward.

“There is much more to the mountain than simply gold and jewels. Artifacts, knowledge, history: all of those and more are also hidden within the walls of Erebor,” Galadriel countered.

“Hidden and unobtainable!” He protested. “There is a reason that Thranduil continues to associate with Thror despite his hatred. Additionally, entrance to the city is granted solely to dwarves! All of the other races are heavily guarded even should they be permitted past the gates. There is nothing that we can do!” There was silence following his outburst. A soft clink of Gandalf’s pipe being set upon the stone table.

“I believe I know of someone who may be able to help us,” he said hesitantly, his gaze focused solely on Galadriel. “Allow me leave to ask him if he would be willing to undertake such an endeavor. I cannot guarantee his acceptance, but he may be able to enter the mountain.”

“One from your little collection of criminals, Gandalf?” Saruman scoffed haughtily. “Spare me from the illegalities you involve yourself. If you three wish to spend your valuable time consorting with thieves then I wish you well.” He stood from his seat abruptly. “If you find yourself successful in this endeavor I wish to be informed, but otherwise I wash my hands of you and this foolish venture. Farewell.”

The three remaining gave him a nod or watched silently as he walked down the steps and away from the courtyard. The wizard and elf turned their attention to Galadriel.

“Are you sure of this, my Lady?” Elrond asked. “Why is it that you are so keen? It would be a very dangerous quest on which to send anyone, let alone the poor soul Gandalf has in mind.”

“I have seen the suffering that is wrought by the Dragon, Elrond. I will spend years feeling every second of the desolation it will have wrought, knowing that I will have done nothing to truly help. The dwarrow will not trust our people after the actions of Thranduil, but I have seen the necessity in the woodland king’s actions.”

She looked towards Gandalf. “There are a set of gems within Erebor we shall need in order to bring together the races of elves and dwarrow once more. You know that of which I speak.” Her beautiful face was marred by sadness in the pale evening light. As she continued she seemed to age centuries.

“We have all noticed the darkness that has begun to creep across the land. The dragon is simply one of the more noticeable chess pieces that shall soon enter the game.” She sighed deeply before gathering her composure around her like armor. “Send your friend, Gandalf, and bid him leave quickly. War is looming on the horizon and no man, dwarf, or elf shall be spared. We shall need all the help we can muster.”

 

* * *

 

Many months later, as fire and screams echoed from the depths of Erebor and from the streets of Dale, a horse and rider escaped towards the woods. He carried with him only a small pack, mostly empty, that bounced against his back with each gallop. Within were only two things: a map he could not read, entrusted to him by his confidant within the mountain, and a necklace that glowed with starlight.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what I'm doing. Any advice helps; I've never written a fic before. This will take place during the events of The Hobbit and focuses on the reclamation of Erebor. Will reference events necessary to the change in plot that may take place before the story begins. The intro set the stage before the Sack of Erebor and the next chapter will move into the quest! Probably.


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